


Our Perfect Selves

by AlephandMutt (orphan_account)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Asexual friendly, Gen, Humor, Medical Horror, Strexcorp, Tentacle!Cecil, but not that much horror, unlikely buddy team
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-05-22 19:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6090901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/AlephandMutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was one of those silly ideas I had born of the undying love I have for Harlequinpants WTNV fan art. Those Kevin comics give me warm fuzzies and snort laughs every time. <3  (I apologize profusely in advance.)</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. A Healthy Worker is a Happy Worker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GretaRama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretaRama/gifts).



> This was one of those silly ideas I had born of the undying love I have for Harlequinpants WTNV fan art. Those Kevin comics give me warm fuzzies and snort laughs every time. <3 (I apologize profusely in advance.)

“I demand to know what this is about! You can’t arrest me!”

“You’re not being arrested Mr. Palmer. This is all just part of employee physicals to be part of the Strex team. It’s quite routine. Just relax and you’ll be back to gently lulling the news to your friends in Night Vale in no time at all!”

And with that, Cecil was unceremoniously shoved into a twelve by twelve glass cell.

“Oof!” He stumbled forward, but managed to only fall to one knee, which was a feat considering his forearms were fastened behind him, folded against each other and strapped firm in leather hospital restraints bearing the bright yellow and orange logo he’d come to dread and hate.  What was worst than having his arms bound was that below his hands, they had sacked up every tendril of his delicate tentacles in what looked like a modified straight jacket and cinched them tight until they were just a useless lump hanging over his rear.  With all the buckles and straps on them, they looked like Harry Houdini hadn’t survived his last escape — if Houdini also happened to be Mr. Palmer’s parasitic conjoined twin.

It hurt. 

His hands tingled.

His shoulders ached.

And most awful of all, it _itched_.

“This is inhumane!!” Cecil wailed, rising and storming along the glass wall looking into the outer room of medical counters, computer workstations and milling Strex personnel in yellow medical scrubs. “I demand to talk to HR!” Cecil stamped his foot and threw himself chest first against the door only to bounce off the plexiglass. 

A couple employees looked up from clip boards and computers, chuckled and went back to work.

Oh god.

He never should have hinted at his dissent on the air.  Daniel must have written him up or something? What would they do with him? Would it be tolerable — maybe like just a quick bit of reeducation? He had some canned soup and pudding cups left in the apartment just in case of such emergencies. Carlos could help him afterwards if it was just a touch of electroshock or the like.  And a round of that certainly cleared the sinuses…

But the restraints and the thoroughness with which they’d examined, scanned, poked, pricked and prodded him told him Strex had bigger fish to fry.

He groaned and  pulled and wrenched at his arms, all to no avail, then slumped against the glass, panting. How could they think this was okay? How could they do this to a person? A human being? He paced the perimeter of the cell until he was dizzy, watching at the glass and periodically yelling his protests again and again whenever one of the workers outside lifted their heads his way.

He needed to calm down. There was a little metal bench along one wall, but with his tentacle hub trussed into the dead lump behind him, he couldn’t move it to sit.

How long had he been in here?

The tingling had become a cold sensation, or was that numbness?  Dear bright beams, had he lost circulation? That could mean permanent nerve damage, right?

Frantic, and sweating bullets, he scanned the cell, searching for any sharp corners, any openings, anything he could use to to free himself or negotiate.

There.

Beside the door was a thin rectangular opening at waist level in the glass; a utility port with a shelf for sliding a food or equipment tray into the cell. Cecil slid to his knees to put his mouth next too it and yelled into the work room. “Get this stuff off me! You can’t leave me like this! What if I need to pee?”

A woman in a lab coat with a tidy bob approached. “Really Mr. Palmer. It’s been five minutes. Just wait patiently and we’ll be with you shortly. You’re not our only priority today.”

 

……………..<o>……………..

 

Sometime later, voices made Cecil lift his head from where he knelt slumped against the glass.

“Oh, this is just so exciting! I am thrilled! Thrilled and relieved! What? Oh, yes, of course…”

Cecil blinked up at the orderlies bringing someone else into the cell. Someone who had just turned around to willingly give them his arms to manacle. That voice was familiar…

Struggling to get his feet under him, Cecil started to rise, but not before the Strex medical crew had quickly filed out, locking him in with the new comer.

“You let them—“ Cecil began, sinking back to the floor and then choked as the man turned around.

“Oh, hey friend!” Kevin beamed.

 

……………..<o>……………..

 

“You let them put those on you. Let them lock you in here…”

“Well of course I did.  Safety protocols are very important. And it wouldn’t be fun or fair if everyone didn’t observe them!”

Cecil shook his head and shrank back as Kevin crossed the cell and sat primly on the bench. One of the workers outside waved and gave him a thumbs up and he beamed back with a big wink.

“You’re insane.” 

“Insanely _happy_ , you big silly! Don’t you know what’s going on?” Kevin chided. Then his face clouded for just a moment with concern. “Why, I don’t think you do.  Why are you down on the floor like that?”

Cecil rose shakily to his feet and struggled to stretch his tendrils. As one, they lifted and flexed in the rough canvas bag a few inches before dropping back as bound dead weight. 

“Oh.” Kevin said frowning. “Yes, that would make sitting awkward.” His smile quickly returned. “Oh, but don’t you worry about that!  When we get done in here, this will not be a problem. Neither of us will have to worry about any funny or odd little things like that getting in the way of our best work ever again.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our healthcare benefits kicked in! And Strex provides full coverage at their facilities for us to become our full and most productive perfect selves!”

“Perfect selves?”

“Yes! They’ll take care of removing your, ah, your… extra weight. And they’ll take care of me too!”

Cecil’s eyes roamed over Kevin, narrowing.

Kevin saw this and his smile faltered, then came back with full force, nailed in place. He shifted awkwardly under Cecil’s critical gaze and began whistling brightly.

“And just what will they be taking care of for you?”

“Oh!” Kevin laughed, “It’s very minor. A silly thing really.” For the first time, his arms tugged reflexively at his restraints, as if he wanted to put his hands up to cover his front.

Cecil stalked around him, looking him over from side to side.

Kevin fidgeted.

Then he sighed and rolled his black empty eyes in exasperation. “Okay fine. This thing, okay? And I’m so glad too. It is _such_ a nuisance.”

Tipping his head back,  Kevin stretched his neck, making some room between his shirt collar and firmly knotted scarf. Something pink and thin wormed weakly out from the scarf then bent double to grip the tail of the fabric and tugged until it came untied.

Cecil took a step back, eyes wide as he saw what was underneath.

“What is that?”

A second maw, full of needle like teeth bisected Kevin’s throat. Presently, it’s long thin tongue lolled out, panting, relieved to be free of the stifling wrap.

Kevin sighed. “Diego calls it ‘neck mouth’, but I call it good riddance to bad rubbish!”

At this, the tongue retracted and the lower lip quivered.

Glaring downward, Kevin looked for all the world like he could see the pathetic expression on it. “Oh don’t play the pity party card! If Mr. Palmer here knew of all the things I’ve put up with because of you, you wouldn’t get an ounce of sympathy from him either!”

 

_to be continued..._


	2. Teamwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've been left waiting at the doctor's office, right?

From the other side of the cell, Cecil kept a wary distance, resisting the urge to volley off a dozen questions about that thing that sprang to mind. He had also been taught that it was impolite to stare, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the extra mouth, and he decided wariness and safety probably trumped good manners.

Kevin wasn’t bothered. “There goes Daniel. I wish I could wave…” He beamed to himself, watching the various Strex workers hustle about the aisles and workstations. “Oh, I just can’t wait for this to be done! Diego will be so surprised!”

“Diego?” Cecil was curious despite himself.

Kevin coughed politely and looked away with a little blush. “My boyfriend. I’m so excited to show him!”

“Does he dislike it in particular?” Cecil asked, noting that the mouth’s expression was especially still and glum at this turn in the conversation.

“Well, no. I wouldn’t say that exactly. In fact, in some instances I think he finds it, ah, novel…  But I think he’ll like my whole unblemished throat so much better!”

“How long have you had it?”

“Hmm. Well… As long as I can remember.” Kevin blinked looking a little confused. “This is awfully personal. How long have you had, er, those?” He tipped his chin at the sacked up lump hanging behind Cecil.

“All my life. We’re very attached.” Cecil growled, leaning against the glass wall wearily.

“Well.” Kevin said primly. “I say there is no time like the present to try something new and improved.  Think of how much lighter and freer you’ll feel with a nice silhouette with only the normal, perfect number of appendages—“

“Lunch time!”

They were interrupted by a cheery woman in gold Strex scrubs bearing a tray with two large drink cups into the cell. Before Cecil could rise to charge the door, she deposited them on the small shelf by the delivery slot and deftly backed out, the door sealing shut behind her.

“I hope you like smoothies!” She called.

“I love them!” Kevin sang back with a wink.

Oh sweet merciful beams…  Cecil hunched his shoulders and watched with a little grim amusement as Kevin attempted to drink his lunch. Each time he leaned over to take the straw, the neck mouth beat him to it, its tongue lassoing the straw and tilting the cup to help it suck greedily. 

“Why you little… Fine. Fine.” Kevin twisted and huffed. “Enjoy it. I’m amazed at your appetite considering this will be your _last meal_!” He spat.

Cecil smirked.

“Your boyfriend,” Cecil began. “You mentioned him being surprised. So, he doesn’t know where you are?”

“Oh no. I’m sure he thinks I’m at the station office like always, preparing for tomorrow morning’s show. Say, are you going to drink yours?”

“Go ahead.”

“Thank you!” Kevin took a dainty sip from the other straw, while the neck mouth continued making slurping noises as it searched the bottom of its cup for the last dregs. “Mmm. Mango and pineapple! Today just gets better and better!”

Cecil slid further down wall and resisted the urge to pound his head against the glass. If the discomfort of the restraints didn’t drive him nuts, well, there was always Kevin.

Then something occurred to him.

“Kevin.  If they’re about to perform surgery on us, why are they giving us lunch? You have to fast before an operation.”

This made the other man straighten up from the tray of blended drinks. He frowned in thought while the neck mouth gnashed irritably and strained with its tongue to reach one of the straws once more. “Huh. That is funny. I think you’re right. Unless of course, with Strex, They’ve probably come up with some state-of-the-art advancement that makes it unnecessary now.  I’m sure that’s what it is.”  He leaned over the narrow slot in the glass and called to one of the workers. “Hey friend! Has Strex made fasting before a medical procedure obsolete?”

Two workers prairie-dogged up from their workstations to stare at Kevin blankly a moment. They looked at each other and then back at Kevin. Quickly one smiled, nodded eagerly, and signed one-the-nose at him. The other saw this and beamed too, giving him a thumbs up.

“See??” Kevin turned back to Cecil, triumphant.

The other man just groaned and dropped his head against the glass.

 

When Kevin had polished off the smoothies, he returned to the bench, whistling.

Cecil, from where he knelt on the floor, tried to ignore him. He busied himself in an effort to wiggle some circulation back into his tentacles or to roll and stretch his shoulders that were screaming from being pinned back so long. Finally he couldn’t take it anymore, and he climbed to his feet and bent next to the delivery slot. “I need to pee!” He roared.

Kevin stopped whistling. “I do too.” He admitted.

Somewhere in the sea of workers a button was pressed and both Cecil and Kevin heard a soft hiss.

A panel in the back of the cell popped open to reveal a bathroom.

“Short of telekinesis, WHAT EXACTLY AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THAT??”

 

The day wore on.

A shift left.

Others shut off area lights.

“Mr. Palmer? Kevin?” A cheerful voice said over the intercom as the last few workers filed out. “Due to the precise and complex nature of each of your procedures, some additional preparations are necessary. We’ll reschedule you both for first thing in the morning. Thank you for your patience!”

“What? No! No!” Cecil leapt up and ran the length of the cell to pound his chest and forehead on the door. “No!”

As the last of the lights went out, he dropped back to the floor, practically curling up in the fetal position. “No…” He groaned.

“I’m sure it’s just an oversight.” Kevin sighed. “People get busy, you know.”

Cecil writhed and went limp. “It hurts. And I really need to pee.” He whined.

Rolling his eyes, Kevin turned away. But the long tongue snaked out of his neck and gave his cheek a sharp slap. “Ow! Stop that!”

Cecil looked up to see the gash bare its teeth and gnash them before slapping Kevin again.

“Can it talk? Does it have vocal cords?”

“Thank the merciful Smiling God, no.” Kevin twisted as the thing smacked him some more. He shrugged in his restraints, obviously at a loss to not have his hands to defend himself. “Okay! Fine! Fine!” He burst at last. “But you get to try it, not me.” He looked down at Cecil, grimacing. “Turn around.” 

“What?” Cecil gave him a baffled look.

“Come on. Let me see those buckles. I won’t bite. Ha. I won’t — I can’t make any promises about, er, it.” He glanced down at his neck where the mouth pouted, then blew a raspberry at him.

Slowly Cecil started to shift up onto his knees, but then froze. This was Kevin for the beam’s sake. Kevin, whose words sounded like cupcakes and jellybeans but whose actions — or the results of his actions — were those of a vivisectionist. 

But his shoulders and back ached and what part of his tentacle hub that wasn’t in pain from the pinching straps had gone cold and numb. He sat up, slid to his knees and offered the limp canvas sack up to the other man.

“That’s better. Let’s get this over with.” Kevin frowned distastefully at the floor before gingerly kneeling a little behind the other man. Cecil noted that he hesitated,, seeming concerned about scuffing the tops of his polished honey-colored wingtips. They were nice shoes.

“Hmm. The buckles are straightforward enough.” Kevin was bent over Cecil’s back. “But this is a little hard to do without being able to look at them. Ooo…”

It was disconcerting to feel a something tugging at the straps as Kevin spoke. Like a ventriloquists trick. Cecil chanced a glance over his shoulder and was met with Kevin’s black glittery gaze and the sight of over a foot of thin pink tongue snaking from the maw in his neck to worm and worry its way in to the hardware securing his back.

An ‘Ew’ escaped him, but he quickly looked forward again, biting off any other comment.

“Well, it’s not like it tastes great either.” Kevin sighed irritably.

“Oh god. You can taste what it does?”

“A bit. Shared nervous system perhaps? Oof!” The neck mouths tongue tugged a particularly snug strap loose and Kevin lost his balance, toppling over onto Cecil.

“Ow. Ow. Ow!” Cecil’s arms were crushed against him.

Kevin didn’t roll off him, stuck while the slashing tongue wriggled under another strap and made short work of the last buckle. “Sorry. Sorry. Almost there… Ah!”

At last Kevin pulled away and Cecil managed to sit up, the canvas sack sliding off his appendages like a snake’s shed skin. As he struggled back to his knees, shrugging out of it, a pool of darkness spilled down his back and unfurled on the floor.

“Oh!” Kevin gasped, now splayed on the floor. He crab-walked back away from them as the tentacles weakly began to stretch, lengthen and regain life.

Cecil sighed deeply. “So much better.”

The appendages were a dark, almost black, purple hue.  Many of them were midnight blue or even a dead powdery cobalt, so starved of blood flow. But as circulation returned, the darker ones flushed, turning a ruddy wine color like black grapes.  These revived ones immediately began to rise and writhe, lifting and rubbing the limp ones beside them. A few others massaged Cecil’s shoulders, while others investigated the locked manacles holding his arms.

Cecil turned to Kevin. “Thank you.”

The neck mouth grinned and gnawed a leather strap dangling from its bottom teeth. The rosy tongue, very like his tentacles, darted out and and saluted him. As soon as it vanished the thing began chewing the leather again eagerly.

“Stop that! Good lord — do you even know where that’s been?” Kevin squirmed his arms, helpless to stop the smirking thing from chowing down like it was a slab of jerky.

“Have all you want.” Cecil told it. “I say good riddance. And if you’ll excuse me.” He strode, half recovered tentacles trailing behind him, toward the bathroom.

Watching him, Kevin moved back to the bench, noting that a few of the powdery colored tendrils drug the floor, unmoving.

 

A little later, Kevin heard a flush and running water. It had been how long that they’d been in here? Six hours? Longer?  He was more than a little jealous when Cecil reemerged looking much perkier. Even the tentacle hub looked relieved, fanning out behind him and exploring the walls and door and bench surface as the other moved back into the cell.

The appendages were dry and smooth looking, now with a healthier iridescent sheen, and, Kevin saw, their undersides didn’t have suction cups like an octopus as he’d assumed. Rather, their bottoms had a trail of thin textured fins, like sneaker thread or mushroom gills. That must give them some touch sensitivity and grip, he mused.  Also, he saw that two of the pale ones were still dragging the floor.

“Well friend,” Kevin scooted over on the bench to make room. “You look in better spirits.”

“I’ll be in better spirits when we get out of here.” Cecil gave him a hard look.  “You can’t think with such treatment they have our best interests at heart.”

“Strex has everyone’s best interests at heart!” Kevin insisted.

“Right.” Cecil rolled his eyes again.

“However. Your, ah, your… ?” Kevin nodded down at the floor where one of the pale tentacles lay.

Cecil followed his gaze. “Oh. Huh.” Immediately some of the others lifted and rubbed vigorously at the lifeless appendages, but to no effect. After a moment’s pause, they set them down on the floor gently. “Hmm. Dead soldiers.” Cecil sighed with a resigned frown.

“D-dead?” Kevin breathed.

“Yeah. Must have been with out blood flow too long. I told you those straps weren’t humane. None of this is!” Cecil huffed.

“But they’ll perk up again in a little while I’m sure.”

“No. I’ll probably shed them in a day or two.”

“What?!”

“They’ll fall off. They’re dead.” Cecil regarded the creeping horror dawning on Kevin’s face. Was this guy finally cottoning on? He kept his voice even. “Hospitals, medical services and your job don’t lock you in cells or stick you in tight restraints usually. That’s for the government, the secret police and maybe a few close personal friends who are consenting adults and only on very special occasions like Arbor Day.  Kevin, whatever Strex has planned for us, it’s bad. They wouldn’t go through all this otherwise.”

Kevin shook his  head and began pacing swift circles around the cell. Cecil thought at first the neck mouth was making a noise, but it turned out Kevin was having a quiet argument with himself. Finally he stopped and gave a long look at the evidence laying like a couple a limp fire hoses on the floor.

He frowned and twisted his mouth, then shifted on his feet and glanced back at the restroom. “You may be right. Maybe.” He conceded. “Ug. I can’t think. I don’t suppose you would —?”

Oh god. Cecil shuddered and his tentacles shrank together behind him.

“One good turn deserves another?” 

The neck mouth also offered a polite and hopeful, if toothy smile.

“Let’s get this over with.”


	3. Elective Surgery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I swear, at any moment they are going to bust out of this cell. Really.  
> Any.  
> Moment.  
> Soon...

 

Cecil faced away from the bathroom door and steadfastly refused to glance behind him at what his other limbs were assisting with. Several of his more stubborn tentacles cowered around his legs, hoping they wouldn’t be noticed or called into service. “You will speak of this to no one.”

Kevin practically bounced out of the men’s room when the job was done. “Mum’s the word! Oh, bless you friend!” He sighed. The neck mouth’s tongue lolled out in relief. “That was torture. And not the fun finger paint-y kind! Now I can concentrate on this pickle we’re in!”

“Don’t need to know.” Cecil cut him off and began examining the walls of the cell closer. If the bathroom door was hidden, what other panels might open up?

Kevin watched, then looked over at the narrow tray delivery slot. “Your, ah, appendages? They’re pretty tapered and flexible?” 

Cecil followed his gaze. “I can flatten them a bit.” He nodded.

Joining Kevin at the delivery slot, he let two tendrils investigate the edges of it while he studied the distance between it and the cell door. “Did you see how they’ve been opening this?” The cell door consisted of two thick pieces of plexiglass in tracks that slid apart into the clear double paned walls, pocket door style. There was no visible handle, button or keypad anywhere on or near it.

Both Kevin and his neck mouth frowned. “No. Maybe with the security badges? Or a device app?” He nodded across the cube farm in front of them to some labs that had black badge readers at their doors.

“I’m guessing those things went home with everyone.” Cecil slid a tentacle through the slot and let it slither to the front of the cell doors, but it couldn’t get a purchase on them or pry them open. “Ow. Damn.” His tendril drew back from straining at the entrance, flexed and shook itself.  Cecil let it return inside with its fellows.

“Could you reach a computer?” 

Following Kevin’s gaze, Cecil spotted a standing laptop station on casters. It was just poking out of a cube  a few yards away. He backed up to the slot as close as he could, letting a single limb stretch out across the aisle in front of the cell. Grunting with effort, Cecil rolled his shoulders and flattened his arms to press and stretch, but the tentacle that slid out was still a few feet shy of touching it.

Kevin watched, biting his lower lip and bobbing on the balls of his feet, tense with anticipation. Even the neck mouth stretched its tongue out, mimicking the other’s strain as if it could will the appendage to reach further.

“Oof.” Cecil wheezed and let the questing tendril drop and rest. “I don’t know about this.”

“Turn a moment.  Do you see that chair?” Kevin tipped his chin forward.

Cecil spotted it and understood. “You’ll have to tell me left or right.” He took a deep breath and pressed back to the opening. The dark purple limb quickly stretched and caught a wheel of the closest work station’s rolling chair, gripped its spoke and began to guide it towards the laptop cart.

“Right a little. A little more. Wait wait —“ 

Cecil stopped, watching the anxious look on Kevin’s face. He was beginning to suspect Kevin was one of those people who talked with their hands. The other man wriggled uncomfortably, shifted his shoulders and generally made tongue-tied faces as he studied the layout of the objects Cecil couldn’t see behind him.

“If you turn it a little to the left, push straight back slowly, then turn back right, I think you can hook it. The trouble is, if we mess up we might push it out of reach completely.” 

Cecil and Kevin’s eyes met a moment. “Okay.” Cecil said.  He released the chair, shook and flexed his tentacle to warm up, then grasped the spoke again carefully. “Very slow. A little to the left.”

Kevin nodded encouragingly, eyes glued to the wheeled workstation. “Now straight back… a little more…”

Eyes rammed shut with effort, Cecil was sure he was stretching as far as was humanly possible, but when he turned the spoke back and pulled, he felt the clunk and weight of the caster wheels tangling together and the small computer station was in tow.

Kevin hopped around the cell. “Oh, Oh! I wish I could hug you!”

…And Cecil felt a small but very deep relief that Kevin could _not_ actually hug him. But Kevin, now eagerly pressed to the glass beside him to look over their prize, turned a beaming face to him and the neck mouth gave him a tongue lap like a slobbery dog.

“Ug! No!” Cecil tore himself from the cell wall while a dozen tentacles scrubbed at his wet cheek.

“Sorry! Sorry! It gets excited too.”

Scowling, Cecil stalked back to the slot, keeping a cautious eye on Kevin as he reached through and pecked a couple keys on the laptop with his thinnest tendrils. To his surprise, an open desktop immediately appeared. “Did they not log off?”

“Log off?” Kevin echoed.

“Yeah, so it’s private. Password protected.”

Kevin blinked at him blankly.

“Like your personal email account, so others can’t read it?”

“Oh, you are _too_ funny.” Kevin giggled. “Why on Earth would anyone need to protect their emails from each other? Everyone at Strex is one big happy family! Can you imagine how much time we’d waste if we had to stick in passwords and all that log on, log off stuff.” He hooted. “I’m sure it’s just like at DBCR where we can all see each others hard work.”

While it was true that Kevin could not ‘hug’ Cecil, it occurred to the Night Vale resident that he was not so hampered. He could hug Kevin right around the throat with any number of his deft, newly freed limbs.

Easy Palmer… Easy.

“So you trust Strex with your privacy — your everything?”

“Sure do!”

Rolling his eyes, Cecil lifted one of the ashy dead tentacles under Kevin’s nose. “So what is this?”

“A very unfortunate mistake.” Kevin whispered, but averting his eyes quickly, his chipper tone returned,  “But, now that I think about it, if they were going to remove them for you, does it really matter? I mean, really, think this through a moment.” He chided.

Two of the braver tentacles obeyed Cecil’s disgust. They each took one of Kevin’s shoulders and firmly shoved him away. 

Kevin looked hurt, but Cecil only glared and spoke slowly with forced barely feigned patience.“I don’t _want_ them removed. I _like_ them. _My boyfriend likes them_. They are part of, how did you put it? My perfect self. What part of this can’t you understand?”

Backing away, Kevin meekly sat on the bench, his eyes dropping down to the two expired limbs trailing behind the other man. He swallowed. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought of it like that… from another perspective. I should give you some space…” Even the neck mouth looked small, purse-lipped and contrite.

Cecil huffed and spun back to explore the laptop.

 

 

 

It had been an hour. At first Cecil had tried to search for security information, building maps, but everything on the machine was medical information, pharmaceutical compounds, time tables and raw code he couldn’t understand.

On the bench, Kevin had slumped over against the glass wall, a glum dazed look on his face.

“Oh.  Oh no…” Cecil moaned at last. “No. No. No…” He straightened and backed away, pulling again at his pinioned arms. “They can’t.”

Kevin stood. “Can’t what? What did you find?” He hurried over to the laptop.

On screen, a simplified animation —that looked remarkably similar to Ikea instructions — ran on a loop. It showed Cecil in red outline with his tentacle hub in green, right down to its roots deep in his spine. A large scalpel floated down, dividing him neatly in two from the crown of his head to his rump. The two halves fell away into cartoon trash cans while animated tongs plucked up the squirming tentacle hub, roots and all. Shifting to a grid of petri dishes, the scalpel returned and instantly chopped the limbs into neat round slices that fell perfectly into a waiting dish, ready to culture. The last cartoon segment showed a line of yellow outlined Strex worker diagrams quickly being grafted with their own cloned tentacles, giving them that many more limbs with which to do their work. A counter on the sideline showing a productivity score skyrocketed to a whizzing blur.

“Oh. Oh my.” Kevin breathed. “You have to admit, that’s a really smart idea.”

“Smart??”

“Well, think of all it will do for Strex.” Kevin seemed a bit in awe.

“Did you not notice the part where I’m in two trash cans?”

“Well, now… That is troubling. I mean, sometimes to make an omelet you’ve got to crack a few skulls. But it does seem excessive.” Kevin looked back at Cecil sadly. “And really,  I don’t think your boyfriend will go for it at all.”

Cecil shook his head, unable to form words.

“Is my procedure on there?” Kevin leaned close to the glass, his neck mouth looking nervous and still.

With a few clicks, Cecil found a second loop to play.  In this one, Kevin’s head and neck were diagramed in green, while the neck mouth, with connective threads spreading down into his spine, then fanning out into his limbs, was colored red. Again the scalpel fell, slicing through Kevin’s neck just below the voice box but above the extra maw, and his body, neck mouth and all, dropped away into the cartoon trash. Tongs caught Kevin’s disembodied head, and swung over to a radio booth, where it screwed his head like a giant lightbulb into a life support socket mounted in front of the microphone.  Here the scores on the side shifted, showing DBCR’s expenses going down by an amount Cecil could only guess was Kevin’s salary.

“What is this?”  Kevin stared at the animation as it repeated again and again. “I don’t understand. What…”

Cecil said nothing as Kevin silently watched it a third, a fourth time… He waited, in curious disbelief as Kevin took a hesitant step back, his face completely crumbling.

“But I don’t want to be just a head and a voice!! How will I go outside and see the sun? How will I pet ponies? Oh… oh god! How will I ever touch Diego?”  Kevin’s lower lip began to tremble and he looked desperately around the cell, his black eyes suddenly brimming with tears. “I WANT MY BOYFRIEND!” He wailed and burst into sobs, pulling frantically at the manacles on his arms.

A couple of Cecil’s tentacles pinched the bridge of his nose as he bit back his exasperation. “Now he gets it,” he muttered. Trying to shake off the anger and compose himself a bit, he stepped towards him. “Here now. Here…” He gently took Kevin’s shoulders with a couple tendrils and guided him back to the bench. “Take it easy.”

But as soon as Cecil sat, Kevin fell against him, panicked hiccuping sobs wracking his frame.

What could he do?

With a sigh, Cecil wrapped Kevin in his purple black coils and hugged him in firmly, letting a couple rub his shoulders a little in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. One of them even reached up to stroke the other man’s hair, until Cecil gave it a withering look, and it quickly returned with the others in the embrace. After a bit Kevin seemed to calm some and heaved a few deep shuddering breaths. “That’s it." Cecil told him. "Easy does it. Let’s stay calm and try to think this through.”

Snuffling, Kevin wiped his face on Cecil’s shoulder. The neck mouth’s tongue pinched up Kevin’s pocket square and attempted to mop his face for him. “Yes… We should… We should make a plan!” His high voice cracked a little.

“That’s right.” Cecil assured him, and though it made his stomach lurch to say it, added, “I’m sure if the two of us work together we can come up with a good one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm beginning to suspect the neck mouth and tentacles are the brains of this operation...

**Author's Note:**

> If you're unfamiliar with Neck Mouth Kevin, you can check out [Harlequinpants lovely world here.](http://harlequinpants.tumblr.com/tagged/welcome%20to%20night%20vale)  
> 


End file.
